his little pj bottoms down, pull his little butt down to me. He’s like a little doll. I close my mouth around his little penis. I know he loves me. I’m sucking him, sucking him! At the same time going up down up down on my penis, dick! It’s so good. He doesn’t wake up, I want him to wake up even though I’m scared for him to wake up. OOOhhhh! I come like one of Mr Lee’s mousetraps SNAP! surprising myself. I groan quiet, get up off my knees. I never felt so happy in all my life! I float back down the hall to Dorm Three, glide past fourteen, one, thirteen, two, twelve, three, eleven, four. I climb back in my bed, stretch out flat on my back, the light from the parking lot still in my eyes. But the dream is over. I can finally go to sleep.
WHEN I WAKE UP, it’s like, Yo! I know where I’m going and I don’t care who likes it. Every morning the lights go on with the sound of Brother Samuel ringing the brass wake-up bell. We get up at six on weekdays, seven on Saturdays, and eight on Sundays. We go to bed 9:00 p.m. regardless. Boys complain and shit, me too, but I don’t mean it, deep down I like the regularity.
Boys is groaning and pulling the covers over their heads. Brother Samuel is still ringing the stupid bell. I pull my trunk out from under my bed. I gotta wear something besides jeans so I can move. These past couple of days been feeling almost like summer so I just grab my red athletic pants and a T-shirt. We don’t have to go to morning Mass on Saturday, so we don’t, except for the little altar-boy punks. I’m not really a Catholic. I don’t care how many times I say I am, go to Mass, genuflect, sign of the cross hail Mary full of cum the Lord done had thee or you wouldn’t be having a motherfucking baby! Ha! Ha! First communion, confirmation, shit!
This is a home for Catholic boys who are orphaned, and if anybody calls up here willing to adopt older kids, it’s Catholic people. So you know, fuck it, I ain’ really thinking about shit like that no more. But just in case, I’ll be a Catholic. Religion is about believing, and I don’t believe nothin’ I can’t see. And anyway if they was so all that, then why shit goes down like it does. CLAK CLAK CLAK . It’s a toy. There’s these two strands of nylon cord tied together at the top, at the bottom of each cord is a hard clear plastic ball, smaller than a Ping-Pong ball, bigger than a boulder marble. The object of the game, the fun, is spozed to be getting the balls to bounce off each other nonstop real fast. The sound is CLAK CLAK CLAK over and over and over, loud. That’s the real object of the game—driving grown-ups crazy with the noise. I used to love doing it. The little kids here all do. I hate it now; everybody hates it unless they’re doing it. It’s not just that I hate the noise, it’s that the stupid shit noise is like part of my brain now, in there, I can’t get it out.
I gotta piss. I pull on my T-shirt and head for the door. Bear Ass is at the door.
“J.J., make up your bed, please, before you leave the floor.”
“I gotta go to the bathroom.”
“Um hmm, hurry up and make up your bed so you can relieve yourself.”
Fuck this fool, I think, and go to push past him. The next thing I know, he’s grabbed me and flipped me over his shoulder and I’m flying through the air WHAM! Flat on my back. I try to kick up, he gets me in a choke hold and slams me back down.
“Now!” he growls. “You make up that bed now!”
I scream, he cuts off my air, slams my head to the floor hard, it hurts like fuck. I feel like shit as I piss all over myself. I squeeze my eyes shut to all of Dorm Three looking down on me in pity.
Brother Samuel lets me go. “Well, don’t we both wish you had obeyed orders and done as you were told? Now, get up and make up your bunk immediately!”
I don’t raise my head while I’m making up my bed. I pull up the dingy wrinkled sheets, then the skinny pale blue blanket, reach under my bed
WHEN I WAKE UP, it’s like, Yo! I know where I’m going and I don’t care who likes it. Every morning the lights go on with the sound of Brother Samuel ringing the brass wake-up bell. We get up at six on weekdays, seven on Saturdays, and eight on Sundays. We go to bed 9:00 p.m. regardless. Boys complain and shit, me too, but I don’t mean it, deep down I like the regularity.
Boys is groaning and pulling the covers over their heads. Brother Samuel is still ringing the stupid bell. I pull my trunk out from under my bed. I gotta wear something besides jeans so I can move. These past couple of days been feeling almost like summer so I just grab my red athletic pants and a T-shirt. We don’t have to go to morning Mass on Saturday, so we don’t, except for the little altar-boy punks. I’m not really a Catholic. I don’t care how many times I say I am, go to Mass, genuflect, sign of the cross hail Mary full of cum the Lord done had thee or you wouldn’t be having a motherfucking baby! Ha! Ha! First communion, confirmation, shit!
This is a home for Catholic boys who are orphaned, and if anybody calls up here willing to adopt older kids, it’s Catholic people. So you know, fuck it, I ain’ really thinking about shit like that no more. But just in case, I’ll be a Catholic. Religion is about believing, and I don’t believe nothin’ I can’t see. And anyway if they was so all that, then why shit goes down like it does. CLAK CLAK CLAK . It’s a toy. There’s these two strands of nylon cord tied together at the top, at the bottom of each cord is a hard clear plastic ball, smaller than a Ping-Pong ball, bigger than a boulder marble. The object of the game, the fun, is spozed to be getting the balls to bounce off each other nonstop real fast. The sound is CLAK CLAK CLAK over and over and over, loud. That’s the real object of the game—driving grown-ups crazy with the noise. I used to love doing it. The little kids here all do. I hate it now; everybody hates it unless they’re doing it. It’s not just that I hate the noise, it’s that the stupid shit noise is like part of my brain now, in there, I can’t get it out.
I gotta piss. I pull on my T-shirt and head for the door. Bear Ass is at the door.
“J.J., make up your bed, please, before you leave the floor.”
“I gotta go to the bathroom.”
“Um hmm, hurry up and make up your bed so you can relieve yourself.”
Fuck this fool, I think, and go to push past him. The next thing I know, he’s grabbed me and flipped me over his shoulder and I’m flying through the air WHAM! Flat on my back. I try to kick up, he gets me in a choke hold and slams me back down.
“Now!” he growls. “You make up that bed now!”
I scream, he cuts off my air, slams my head to the floor hard, it hurts like fuck. I feel like shit as I piss all over myself. I squeeze my eyes shut to all of Dorm Three looking down on me in pity.
Brother Samuel lets me go. “Well, don’t we both wish you had obeyed orders and done as you were told? Now, get up and make up your bunk immediately!”
I don’t raise my head while I’m making up my bed. I pull up the dingy wrinkled sheets, then the skinny pale blue blanket, reach under my bed
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